


Silence is Golden

by thatwriterlady



Series: 30 Day Writing Challenge 2018 [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Attraction, Bartender Dean Winchester, Castiel Likes Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester Likes Castiel, Flirting, Harvelle's Roadhouse, M/M, Psychic Castiel, Teacher Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-07
Updated: 2018-11-07
Packaged: 2019-08-20 03:01:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16547573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatwriterlady/pseuds/thatwriterlady
Summary: Castiel has a hard time escaping the voices.  As a psychic, he almost never gets to just enjoy the silence, but sometimes he can block out those trying to reach him by going someplace louder, like a bar.  He is drawn to one such bar on the other side of town, and to the bartender behind the counter.  The man is drawn to him too.  As sparks fly, Castiel learns that some people will accept him as he is and that perhaps, for once, he can have a real relationship.  First, he has to get the handsome bartender's mother to leave him alone.  That's harder than it sounds.  Cue attraction, flirting, and a date being set up.  Things are finally looking up for the handsome psychic with a heart of gold.





	Silence is Golden

**Author's Note:**

> Here is Day 3. I hope you like it.

**Day 3: Voices**

 

He could hear them faintly again, whispering in the walls, not loud enough to make out what they were saying, only that he was hearing other people speaking.  It was frustrating.  He was sensitive to such things, just as his father was, his grandmother, _her_ father…

 

It had gone on for generations, passing down to him, and he’d been able to help a lot of people with his gift, but sometimes it was more of a burden than a gift.  Dating was almost nonexistent because once the men he dated learned that he was a psychic, the relationship would end very quickly.  The last one had been especially painful because the man he’d thought he was falling in love with had called him a freak, and promptly disappeared into the wind.  The one before that had tried to convince him that he was schizophrenic, not a psychic.  He’d ended that one.

 

He listened closer.  The voices were a bit louder now.  It sounded as if they were at a party.  With a sigh he walked over to his liquor cabinet, only to find that he was out of whisky.  And bourbon.  And scotch.  Damn it.  He shut the cabinet doors and turned around, placing his hands on his hips.  He needed a drink, but since he was dry, he decided to head out to one of the local bars.  After slipping his well-worn trench coat on, he headed for the door.  It was best to walk, and then call an Uber later.  As he headed down his walkway, he let his gift guide him.  He knew he’d be at the right place soon enough, he just had to be patient.

 

@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

 

He ended up in front of a worn out saloon called The Roadhouse.  There was loud music spilling out and quite a few people coming and going.  He’d never been here before, but he had felt drawn to this place, and that had never steered him wrong before.  Pulling open one of the doors, he slipped inside and looked around, assessing the place.  There were booths, tables, a juke box, pool tables, and more.  The place was fairly packed for a Saturday night, and the vibe he got here was positive.  Nearly every booth and table were filled, and there were people dancing to his right.  It brought a smile to his face. 

 

The bar had a few empty seats so that’s where he decided to sit.  In here, the voices of the dead were drowned out by the voices of the living, and it was like a soothing balm.  He didn’t always hear the dead but they spoke to him often enough that even a moment of silence felt like heaven.  He’d learned to block from his father and that usually gave him some peace and quiet, especially at night when he was trying to sleep.  As he slid onto one of the bar stools, he took his coat off, laying it across his lap as he watched the bartenders work.  There were three currently filling drink orders, one of which was an extremely handsome man.  He hoped the man would come to fill his drink order, and he got his wish less than a minute later when the man came to stand in front of him, placing his hands on the bar top and smiling.

 

“Sorry, we’re busy tonight, I must have missed you sitting here.  What can I getcha?”

 

Cas cocked his head thoughtfully.  What _did_ he want? 

 

“I think I’d like a whisky ginger,”

 

The bartender looked thoughtful for a second.  “Jack and ginger ale?”

 

Cas nodded, smiling.  “That’s it exactly,”

 

The bartender grabbed a glass, added ice and ginger ale before adding the whisky.  He added a stir stick and set it down in front of him.

 

“I don’t think I’ve seen you in here before,” 

 

“This is my first time here.  I like the vibe,”  Cas stirred his drink and took a sip.  Perfect!

 

The bartender got a new drink for the woman sitting next to Cas, but then he was back in front of him, smiling as he leaned on the counter.

 

“What’s your name?”

 

Cas smiled shyly up at the man.  He really was gorgeous.

 

“Cas,”

 

The bartender smiled back, though his was sure, and if he was reading the man right, flirty. 

 

“I’m Dean,”

 

Cas smiled a little wider, deciding to flirt with him.  He tilted his head and looked up at him through his lashes.  That usually got him the attention he wanted.  Dean was no different.  He leaned further over the counter, cocking an eyebrow.

 

“You here alone, Cas?”

 

“I am,”  Cas nodded.  “I just needed a drink.  My liquor cabinet at home is empty,”

 

“Well, lucky me that you decided to get a drink here,”  Dean was smiling again, his tone flirty.  There was no mistaking it now. 

 

“Yes, lucky me,”  He flirted back.

 

“Hang on, don’t move,”  Dean walked over, speaking to one of the other bartenders who nodded, not even looking up as she mixed drinks.  Cas’ eyes widened when Dean lifted the counter at the end and came out.  He walked around the corner and right up to him.

 

“So, it’s my break.  I thought maybe we could sit and talk.  You game?”

 

Cas nodded, his breath catching in his throat as Dean leaned past him to grab the beer the other bartender had set out for him, and then he was motioned for Cas to follow him.  He grabbed his own drink and slid down from the stool.

 

A booth had opened up across the room and Dean motioned for Cas to sit down.  He expected Dean to sit down across from him but instead, he slid onto the seat next to him.

 

“So, tell me about yourself,”  Dean leaned an arm across the back of the seat and leaned closer.  Cas had to admit, he could hear him better sitting this close together. 

 

“What do you want to know?”

 

“Well, are you single?”  Dean asked.  Cas smiled.  At least Dean wanted to know.  Some guys didn’t care if he was in a relationship or not when they flirted, they were just after sex.

 

“I am.  Are you?”  He countered.  Dean smiled and shifted closer.

 

“I am currently unattached,”

 

“Mmm,”  Cas took a sip of his drink.  That could mean he was interested in one night stands.  That was something he himself was _not_ interested in.  Dean took a sip of his beer and leaned closer.

 

“So, what do you do for a living?”  He asked.

 

This was the question Cas hated most.  Technically he could say he was a writer, but he did a lot more than that.  If Dean asked what kinds of books he wrote…

 

“I’m a writer, among other things,”

 

“A writer, eh?  Anything I might have read?”

 

“Depends on what you read,”  Cas was deliberately being vague in hopes that Dean wouldn’t prod further.  The man was beautiful but he’d get up and leave if he thought Cas was some cheap lay.

 

“Interesting.  What _do_ you write?”

 

Cas took another sip of his drink and looked at him.  Had Dean moved closer?

 

“I write books on the supernatural,”

 

A tiny furrow formed in Dean’s brow, the one that always meant a potential love interest was no longer interested.  He drained the rest of his glass and swirled the ice around.  In a few seconds Dean would get up and leave…

 

“Are you…Castiel Novak?”  Dean asked.  Cas looked up at him, seeing interest where he expected skepticism and disgust.

 

“I am,”

 

Dean’s next smile was beatific.  “Man, I’ve read everything you’ve written!  I was planning to go to one of your signings next year.  You’re a psychic, like a real, live psychic!”

 

He wasn’t sure what to make of Dean’s excitement.  Mostly it was women that gushed over his books, not men.

 

“You’ve read them?  _All_ of them?”

 

“I sure have.  I was particularly interested in the missing children cases you’ve worked on.  Seems like a lot of cities contact you for help,”  Dean’s excitement sobered.  “I can’t believe you walked into _my_ bar.”

 

Cas tilted his head, studying him for a moment.  “I felt drawn here, like this was the place I needed to be tonight,”

 

“Really?  Like, maybe someone spoke to you?  Brought you here?”  Dean asked.

 

“I’m not sure, exactly.  I set out to walk, letting myself be guided.  I walked a long time to get here, but from the moment I left my house, I knew this was where I belonged,”

 

“Can you hear anyone talking to you?  See anyone?”  Dean was curious, his flirtations having been exchanged for interest in his books, and in his abilities.  It was surprising, but also disappointing.  He wanted Dean to be interested in him just for who he was, not what he could do, or for the books he’d written.

 

“No, it’s too loud in here to hear anything.  It’s one of the things I like about bars,”

 

The slow realization came over Dean’s face and he nodded.  “Yeah, I can see that.  I won’t hound you about that.  What do you do for fun?”

 

Cas smiled tentatively.  “I read, watch movies, I travel, I hike, go mountain climbing, stuff like that,”

 

“You get cooler by the minute,”  Dean grinned.  Cas lowered his eyes to his empty glass and smiled shyly.  He didn’t hear that very often.

 

“Were you thinking you’d take me home tonight?”  He looked up, meeting Dean’s surprised stare.

 

“What?”

 

“Oh come on, it’s a simple question.  I could find the answer myself, but I don’t like pushing like that,”  Cas didn’t feel even half the confidence he was currently portraying, but he refused to seem weak and vulnerable.  Dean blushed and this time it was him that looked away.  He flagged down a server and ordered another drink for Cas.  When he turned back around, his expression was quite sober.

 

“I thought about it for maybe two seconds, but I don’t do that anymore.  There’s nothing satisfying about it.  I saw an attractive guy sit down at my bar and I thought I’d get to know him, hoping maybe _he’d_ be interested in getting to know _me_.  I thought maybe I could ask him out, after I figured out if he was into me,”

 

“I am,”  Cas said.  “Into you, that is.”

 

Dean’s smile was back.  “Good.  Can I take you out tomorrow?”

 

“You don’t have to work?”

 

“I’m not a full time bartender.  In fact, I haven’t worked the bar in months.  Ellen, she owns the place, she’s a family friend and two of her people called in sick today so she called me up, asked me if I could come in, work a few hours until the rush was over,”  Dean looked around.  The place was still pretty full but not many people were sitting at the bar anymore.  “I’m actually a teacher.  It’s really by chance that I’m even here tonight.”

 

The server returned with the drink and Dean set it down in front of him.  Cas was deep in thought.  He’d been guided here tonight for a reason, and he was beginning to think Dean was that reason.  A voice suddenly spoke loudly in his head, making him flinch with how commanding it was.  He felt like he needed to speak to Dean about it.

 

“Can I ask you a question?”

 

“If your question is, do I believe in fate, up until tonight, I’d have said no, but I think that’s why you walked in tonight.  I was meant to meet you, to talk to you and ask you out, I’m sure of it,”  Dean replied firmly.  Cas smiled and shook his head.

 

“Actually, no, that’s not what I was going to ask, though I’m thinking it too.  I want to ask you, who is Mary?”

 

Dean inhaled sharply and jerked backwards so fast he nearly tumbled out of the seat.  Great, Cas thought.  Now Dean would think he was a freak.

 

“I-is she here?  Is she talking to you?”

 

“No, not exactly.  She had to shout to be heard over all of the other sounds in here.  I’m not used to being screamed at, so she surprised me,”

 

Dean slid closer, almost pressing himself into Cas’ side.  “Mary is my mom.  She died when I was four,”

 

Cas nodded.  That’s what he’d figured.  She was still trying to talk but he couldn’t hear her over the general noises of the bar.  He caught the word fire, and the name Sam.

 

“She died in a fire?”

 

Dean swallowed hard as he stared at his beer bottle.  “Yeah, yeah she did.  Faulty electric in our house,”

 

“Who is Sam?”

 

Dean looked up at him again, his gaze penetrating.  “I thought you couldn’t hear her?”

 

“I can’t, not really.  It’s too loud in here, so she’s shouting.  I’m not picking up most of what she’s saying,”  Cas replied.

 

“Sam’s my baby brother.  You really have a clear line of communication with the dead, don’t you,”

 

“You had doubts?”  Cas wondered.  Dean snorted and took a long pull on his bottle while Cas took a generous drink from his own glass.

 

“No, not at all.  I just never thought my mother would be trying to contact me.  All this time, I thought she’d moved on, to whatever is beyond here.  If it’s heaven, or some kind of alternate reality, I thought she’d be there, not stuck here,” 

 

“Who says she’s stuck?  Sometimes people come back to check in with their loved ones.  I don’t get the impression that she was stuck here, but I do feel that she’s been watching over you and your Sam,”  Cas explained.  “Sorry, most people think I’m a freak, especially when their loved ones specifically try to get me to speak up for them.  It has ruined many relationships and even cost me some friends.  I thought when you walked up to me at the bar that maybe I could talk to you without anyone trying to butt in.  Now’s your chance to back out, I won’t be offended.  A bit hurt, maybe, because I do like you, but not offended,”

 

Dean lowered his arm from the back of the seat and placed a warm hand on Cas’ thigh.  “I’m not going anywhere.  It doesn’t really surprise me that my mom is trying to reach me or Sam.  But we’re both ok, mom.  We were raised by an amazing stepmother that honored your memory when we were growing up and we’re doing really well.  Sammy’s a dad now, I’m teaching, and we’re both happy.  You don’t need to worry about us.  Dad made sure we never forgot you, so did Grandpa Campbell,”  Dean looked around the room as he spoke to his mother.  Cas sat quietly, listening and watching him.  Sometimes spirits just needed that kind of closure.  He was fairly certain she was the guiding force in bringing him here tonight.  Dean turned back to him and smiled.

 

“So tomorrow night, how does dinner sound?  I know a nice restaurant downtown.  I thought I’d hate it when my brother practically dragged me in this one time, but it turns out that I loved it.  I’ve been back a few times now with him and with my dad and stepmom.  The food is really good, it’s all organic,”

 

It was like Dean was speaking directly to his soul.  “That sounds wonderful.  Pick me up at seven?”  Cas wanted a normal date.  He’d have a talk with Mary when he got home, see what else she had to say so she’d go back to where she’d come from, and find peace.  Plus he really wanted a normal relationship for once.  He would have to block once Dean was done with Mary, so he could maybe have a date or two without spirits bombarding him.

 

Dean took his phone when he pulled it out and added his phone number.  He called himself so he’d have Cas’ number too.

 

“Come back up to the bar?  I have to get back to serving, but Ellen said I can leave at eleven, that’s about the time the raunchy crowd leaves and just the regulars stay,”  He stood up and offered his hand to Cas, pulling him to his feet once he’d scooted to the edge.

 

They walked back to the bar and Cas reclaimed a seat.  He sipped at his drink and when it was finished, Dean offered a third.  Cas nodded and the drink was set down in front of him.  He also asked for a glass of water and drank most of that down along with his whisky ginger.  He watched as Dean served drinks to other customers but he always made his way back over to Cas, talking about a variety of topics, from favorite television shows to places they’d traveled to.  At eleven, Dean told Ellen he was leaving.  Cas paid his tab, making sure Dean got a generous tip, and then he was being guided outside, into the crisp, autumn night.

 

“You didn’t drive, I hope,”  Dean was looking at him with concern but he shook his head.

 

“No, I walked, remember?”

 

“Right, I forgot, sorry.  How did you plan to get home?”

 

Cas shrugged.  “I thought I’d call an Uber,”

 

“Nah, I’ll drive you home,”  Dean guided him over to his car and he smiled at how beautiful it was.  It seemed to suite Dean perfectly.

 

The ride went faster than the walk and as much as Cas wanted to invite him inside, it went against his policy on dating.  He didn’t want to give Dean the wrong impression.  Dean, however turned out to be more of a gentleman than he’d expected when he’d met him.  He’d thought the handsome bartender was the love ‘em and leave ‘em type, but instead, he was politely keeping his hands to himself, even as he walked Cas to his door.

 

“So, I’ll pick you up tomorrow night.  Let me write down your address before I go,”  Dean pulled his phone out and Cas rattled off his house number, and he added it under the new contact he'd already made for Cas. This was a man he hoped he'd see more of, beyond just one date.  He smiled before he started backing up.

 

“I look forward to tomorrow night,”  Cas said as he unlocked his door.  He watched Dean walk back to the car and get in before he went inside his house.  He closed the door and leaned back against it, smiling to himself.  So far, Dean wasn’t put off by what he could do.  He hoped he continued to like him, and that maybe, for once, he could have a real relationship.  Mary Winchester seemed to think so, and that was good enough for him.


End file.
